Lullaby
by BlueBeauty
Summary: The Phantom is dying. Christine returns to him before his death. Will they reconcile or will their past be too much of a canyon between them?


A/N: The cluttered thought of a dying Phantom collected in this one-shot. (For some reason it was deleted and so now i'm reposting it) Please R and R!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera...darn it...

Darkness surrounded Erik. The candles had long been snuffed out by the damp air. The shadows shrouded him from the world. He had not the strength to relight the candles or even move. He was dying. He would die alone. He had been born that way, spent his life that way, and now…he would die that way. When Christine had left him all of the light that remained in him till that day, had died…never to return.

He felt the searing pain in his chest grow in intensity and his eyes closed against the agony. His heart had given out, but he had given up long ago. His fingers curled into a fist against the searing pain that came in waves nearly making him cry out against it. He was lying on the floor without the will to get up. In his mind he could imagine her…he only thought of Christine as "her"…the thought of her name was simply too much to bear anymore.

He could see her with his mind's eye sitting by the organ when they would have music lessons. She was so willing to be taught… so moldable. Her talent was obvious and she wished to do nothing more than please him. He had loved her before had even seen her…she had been singing in an empty hall with no one but he listening to her. He could barely make out her face in the darkness and his eyesight was almost perfect. Her voice was so pure and innocent that he had loved her. He followed her as much as he could. She had turned out to be as lovely as her voice.

She had called him Angel. Her angel of music. He did not correct her…nor would he ever do so when she called him by that name. She had only found out his real name in the end. Erik…never had the name been said with such tenderness and yet hateful spite at the same time.

He felt time slipping from him. The damp chill of his home offered no sanctuary to the weak. He had never been weak. Well not until she had left. What could he do? What could he have done? All she had to do was look up at him with those pleading blue eyes and he could not deny her heart's wish. He let the Vicomte go free…when the young man left, he took something that Erik knew he would never regain…his heart. He was a damn fool to have kept her wedding veil and ring that she had left behind as broken links to a past he could not let go of, but was desperate to be rid of.

His lips formed the name he longed to speak, but had no voice to say it. His breathing had become labored and it took all of his strength to keep his eyes open. When would he give in to death? When would he reap his punishment for all of his sins in hell? His body shuddered against the cold. God was not merciful…not to him. He had taken everything from him and not given him any peace. How he longed for peace…

He closed his eyes, surrendering to the darkness that was enveloping him even more now. He knew the end was near. Never had he felt so alone and so abandoned. Usually he kept these thoughts buried deep within him, but now as he lay dying…composure didn't seem like it was needed. It hurt to breathe…his chest felt like it was constricting. It seemed to him like he was drowning. When he felt as if he could bear the pain no more all seemed to fade away and he knew no more…only darkness.

"Oh God no…" A tender voice reached his ear. He couldn't open his eyes as if their were weights on them. His lips were dry and his voice was useless. "Please…don't let him be dead." Suddenly he knew who the voice belonged to. That thought gave him enough resolve and he forced himself to open his eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on the figure kneeling beside him. It was Christine. She was wearing a black traveling cloak with the hood lying back off her beautiful long curly brown hair. Was she real? Was she really there?

"Erik." She cried softly. He reached his hand up to her cheek. The feeling of her soft skin against his calloused palm was enough to prove to him that she was indeed there. Sweet Christine…she had placed his head in her lap in order to make him more comfortable. It would have been impossible for her to move him to his chamber.

"…Christine." He managed to say her name. Her mouth opened and closed in anguish. She knew he was dying. Her eyes were filled with tears…some were already streaming down her cheeks. They fell on his face like comforting drops of rain from heaven. Oh how he loved her still. "Why?" He asked hoarsely.

"I don't know…" She whispered. "I can't explain why." Her hand gently stroked his hair from his forehead. Thank goodness he still wore his mask. How he would have hated for her to face one more agony because of him. "I only know that…I had to see you." She was trembling now. He said nothing to this, but merely inclined his head which translated to her as a nod of acceptance. The light in his eyes dimmed a bit. She still was with Raoul...She had not come back to him for good. "I'm here now." She offered as if that was enough. It was enough for him.

"Stay with me then." He replied gently.

"I would not leave you." She said and then dropped her eyes…she had left him. It seemed foolish to have returned, but she could not leave him like this. She watched him closely. His breathing was ragged and his body was growing weaker. "Drink." She said softly. She tipped a goblet up to his lips careful not to spill the water. He watched her eyes. They were still wide with emotion. She must still have feelings for him. She would not have returned if she didn't.

There was a silence between them…a companionable silence. All was dark except for the kerosene lamp that she had brought with her. She must have used the Rue Scribe entrance to gain access to the lair. "I didn't know you still had your key." Erik said hoarsely as he gazed up at her. She merely nodded and pulled an iron key that had a red ribbon tied to it from her satchel nearby. He closed his eyes against the pain that had returned with a fiery rage. He felt her hand squeeze his palm tightly. She was a comforting presence to him.

"How much pain are you in?" She asked horrified at his pale features.

"Enough." He answered sharply. He felt her flinch. It was not that he snapped at her, it was his answer. She hated to see anything suffer...even him.

"I'm so sorry Erik..." She whispered.

"Don't," He said harshly. He opened his eyes and watched her face pale at his tone. "Don't bestow your pity on me…I cannot bear it."

"It's not pity! You should know that!" She replied angrily. She was about to say more when he doubled up with pain causing her to regret her words. His gasps brought more tears to her eyes. He was dying and there was nothing she could do about it. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry!" She whispered as if his pain was her fault.

"I am to blame." He smiled mournfully. A tear trailed down her cheek and he reached up weakly to wipe it away. His muscles shook with the effort. He watched her shake with silent sobs. He gently captured her jaw with his palm. "Look at me Christine," She avoided his gaze. "Look at me." He repeated this slower and forcefully. Her eyes found his. Tear slid down her pale cheeks. "None of this is your fault…it is mine." He said softly. "Don't cry…don't cry."

"I should never have left you." She cried. Her tears tore at his heart.

"You went with the man you loved...I was wrong to keep you from it." Erik replied lowering his arm back to his side. He could feel his body growing weaker…he didn't have much time and Christine was not at peace as he was.

"I was wrong…" She whispered.

"No…no." He shook his head. "You love him…he loves you. You did the right then…It was I who was in the wrong." She stared at him for the longest while after he said this. He did not know whether she was thinking or simply contenting herself to silence.

"…You loved me enough to let me go." She said finally. Her statement shocked him. Didn't she know? Didn't she know how much he loved her? How much he wanted her with him every minute of every passing day?

"Yes." He whispered. This caused more tears to slide mournfully down her cheeks falling like rain onto his face. The pain in his chest was growing worse and he could hardly bear it now.

"Ange…?"

"Yes Christine?" He gazed up at her tenderly. He hadn't heard her say that name in such a long while. It was bitter sweet.

"Thank-you." She said softly. The words were enough for him. He knew she was happy with the Vicomte…that's all he wanted. He wanted her happiness even if it meant giving her up. It was enough for him to see her, to feel her soft touch on his forehead and hands, and to listen to her voice as she spoke tom him. It had to be enough.

His breathing had become worse and Christine was so worried for him that she could hardly keep her emotions in check. She knew he did not have much time with her. His hand tightened in hers as the pain came again. His touch had always sparked something in her heart.

"Christine…" His voice was urgent bringing her abruptly from her thoughts. "Sit me up." She complied as quickly as she could. She awkwardly leaned him against the crook of her arm. She sat back against the stone wall that he had been lying by. His breathing was now short gasps. He was obviously in great pain and it hurt her more than she could say. She had already watched her papa die…now it was her second guardian and she could hardly bear to watch him suffer. Christine gently wiped the sweat on his brow with her sleeve. She watched in horror as blood slowly dripped its way from his mouth. His lungs burned with the fire of the effort it took to breathe now.

"No…" She cried softly. His hand slowly came up to her face. "You can't leave me..."

"Shhh…" He whispered. His eyes were glassy with fever, but they still held the same fierce look of determination to protect her from pain. This time he knew he would fail. "Shhh…Christine." He smiled weakly up at her. "Sing for me…?" He asked hoarsely.

"What shall I sing?" She could not smile back at him. The pain was too great in her heart.

"Anything." His hand still rested on her cheek. Its presence there comforted her slightly.

"Sleep now…" She began quietly. It was a lullaby…one her papa had sung to her many times when she had nightmares as a child. "Sleep now my love…and dream of the land that awaits you…" A shuddered thin sigh erupted from him…a peaceful sigh. Her eyes widened in alarm, but he nodded weakly at her to continue. "…I shall be waiting there on the edge of your dreams…" She faltered but continued on. "And we shall wait for the sun to rise…bringing morning in its wake….So sleep now…sleep now my love…" She watched him close his eyes and once again alarm rose in her heart as his breathing slowed.

"Sing…" He whispered gently.

"So sleep…sleep now my love…" Her voice cracked with a sob, but she went on. "I shall wait forever for you on the edge of your dreams…" She felt his hand slacken and slowly fall from her cheek. She caught it and held his hand tightly. "I'll wait till you come…till you come for me…So sleep now…sleep…" She was so overcome with sorrow that she could not go on. She could feel the warmth of his body slipping away. With his last strength he lifted his head off her arm and whispered in her ear.

"Christine…I love you." She could barely hear those words, but they were enough. His breathing ceased and his head fell softly onto her shoulder. She cradled him close to her body, weeping softly.

"…I love you, Erik." She cried.


End file.
